


A Trip to the Basement

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: For a request for "something funny" - I hope some of this fits the bill.Barba unwittingly eats some special brownies.
Relationships: Rafael Barba & Olivia Benson, Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Comments: 28
Kudos: 192





	A Trip to the Basement

“Rafael.”

Barba blinked up at her, his forehead wrinkling in confusion as she crossed slowly toward him. He was sitting in the corner on the concrete floor, in the basement of his mother’s apartment building, with his knees drawn up and both arms wrapped around a red bucket in his lap.

“Liv?” he asked. He looked around, licking his lips. “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah,” she said, sinking slowly into a crouch in front of him. “How do you feel?”

“Like a pod person.”

She clenched her jaw to keep from laughing. “I think you’re a little high, Barba.”

“I’m very certain I went downstairs.”

“That’s not—”

“Liv, I think someone drugged me.”

“Yes. Your mother,” she said, still trying desperately not to laugh at him.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he accused, scowling at her.

“You remember those brownies in your mom’s apartment? That you ate? They had pot in them.”

He continued to frown while he puzzled his way through that information, and then his eyes widened. “Someone tried to give my _mami_ drugs?”

“No, Barba, they were hers. They were her brownies, she didn’t know you were going to be at her apartment.”

“They’re doing renaissance at mine.”

“Renovations.”

“I don’t think so. Did…Liv, did my mom call the cops on me?”

“She didn’t call the cops, she called me.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a cop.”

“She was worried when she came home and realized you’d been there and eaten—She said you’ve had a bad reaction before.”

He grimaced and glanced around, once more lowering his voice. “Did she tell you about high school?”

“She said you hid under your bed—”

“I wasn’t hiding.”

“—until the next morning—”

“I was just resting.”

“—after someone gave you—”

“They said I wasn’t fun. They didn’t ask me to any more parties.”

“I’m sorry,” Benson said.

“And my dad—” He cut himself off with another grimace.

“Let’s go back upstairs, okay?"

“Are you going to arrest her?”

“No.”

“Will I have to testify?”

“No. Come on,” she said, holding out a hand.

“I tried to call you but someone took your name out of my phone,” he said, reaching down to pick up his cell from beside his hip.

“I don’t think so. Did you look under B?”

He hesitated, screwing up his face. “Bliv?” he asked uncertainly. His expression brightened for a moment. “Oh—Bolivia! No, wait.”

“Benson.”

“That name tried to call me.”

“That name is me.”

“Shhh,” he said, frowning down at his phone.

“Did you just shush me?”

“No.” The tip of his tongue poked out between his lips as he concentrated on his screen, scrolling carefully with a finger. “Yes I did, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lie.” He tapped his screen and looked up expectantly at Benson as her phone started buzzing in her pocket.

She pulled it out and held it up so he could see his own name and face on her screen.

“Found you,” he laughed. Benson hit the _ignore_ button to end the incoming call. “That hurt my feelings a little bit.”

“Sorry. Can you—” She stopped, suddenly realizing that the scratching sound wasn’t coming from Barba. It was coming from _inside_ the bucket in his lap. She felt a slither of unease as she looked at the red pail. “Barba, what’s in the bucket?”

He looked down. “Oh, nothing. Just a basement bunny.”

“Basement bunny?” she repeated doubtfully. She moved one foot, inching closer to him. “Let me see.” He started to tip the bucket toward her and she half-rose so she could look inside. Her heart stumbled before kicking into a gallop but she tried to keep her voice calm when she said, “Rafael, that’s a rat.” Her stomach rolled at the sight of the scraggly animal and the dark, beady eyes peering up at her.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, frowning down into the bucket. Then: “Are you sure?”

“If it’s a rabbit, where are its ears?”

Barba looked up at her. “This is a tough city, Liv, not every bunny gets to keep its ears,” he said, and his tone was so solemn that she nearly choked on the hysterical laugh that tried to escape her throat.

“We’re going to leave the rat here and go upstairs. Okay?”

“He’ll be killed!” Barba exclaimed.

“I’m sure he can take care of himself. Come on, put it down.”

Barba started to reach a hand into the bucket and Benson felt a flare of panic. “Don’t touch it!” she said before she could stop herself.

Barba froze, his eyes sliding up to hers. “Liv,” he intoned, “it’s too late for that.”

She laughed and immediately curled her knuckles against her mouth to stop herself. She shook her head and cleared her throat. “Just put the bucket down and let’s get out of here, please,” she managed.

“Okay.” He grabbed the pail with both hands and set it next to himself on the floor. “Are you mad at me?”

“Me? Or the rat?” she asked, unable to keep from teasing him a little. To her relief, Barba grinned at her. “No, I’m not mad. Put your phone in your pocket.” Once he’d obeyed, she straightened and held out a hand. “Come on.”

His gaze slid down the length of her body, and she saw his throat bob. “You look very nice, Liv,” he said.

She smoothed her other hand over her blouse. “Yeah, well. You thought a rat was a bunny,” she answered.

He laughed, taking her hand and letting her pull him to his feet. “I thought it was an ugly bunny, though,” he said. “You’re a very pretty…”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Were you at work?” he asked. He probably thought he’d managed a casual tone.

“No. I have a date.”

“With me?”

She smiled, but it was a small gesture that didn’t feel genuine on her face. “No,” she said, pulling her hand from his and settling it onto his shoulder, instead. He seemed a little unsteady on his feet.

“Oh.” He took a couple of shuffling steps. “Liv, I feel _very_ weird.”

“It’ll wear off soon.”

“Are you sure that’s a rat?”

“Positive.”

“Am I doing okay?”

“You’re doing fine,” she said, sliding her hand down to his arm while they walked slowly across the basement toward the stairs. There was no elevator and she didn’t want to think about how long it was going to take him to climb a flight of stairs at his current rate.

“I don’t believe you,” he said. Then, before she could answer, “Yes I do, I always believe you. I don’t like him.”

She looked at his profile. “You don’t like who?”

“Your date.”

“You don’t know him.” She considered. “Actually, I don’t know him, either. It’s a blind date.”

“Even if he’s blind, I still don’t like him.”

“Why?” she asked. She knew it was a dangerous question and she knew she shouldn’t ask it—especially when Barba wasn’t in his right mind. It was unfair to him, but the question slipped out anyway.

“I’m gonna be sick,” he said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. He closed his eyes, swaying while he swallowed several times.

“Just take a deep breath,” she told him, wondering if she was going to have to call someone to help her haul him up the stairs. “We’ll get you something to settle—”

Barba turned away from her and lurched back the way they’d come, dropping onto his knees with a dull thud that made her wince. She said his name, bending to reach for him, but he’d already grabbed the bucket and was vomiting into it with a grunt and a sickening splash. There was a squeal, and frantic scrabbling, and Benson turned her face away and threw her arm over her own mouth and nose, gagging.

She struggled to control the bile climbing the back of her throat, tried to keep her stomach down where it belonged.

“ _Ohh_ ,” Barba said softly, barely above a whisper. “Poor bunny-rat.”

Benson snorted laughter into the crook of her arm. “Are you okay?” she choked, alternating between laughing and gagging.

“I really got him, Liv,” Barba said, sounding so quietly mournful that Benson let out another loud burst of crazy-sounding laughter. “Look at him…”

She shook her head, fighting her gorge at just the mental image. She’d seen a lot of gore in her time on the job, but she was not prepared for an angry rat wallowing in Barba’s vomit. “Leave it,” she wheezed, swiping tears from her eyes. She could already smell it, and that wasn’t helping. “Can you walk?” She fumbled for his arm, keeping her watery gaze averted from the bucket and the wet scrabbling sounds.

“This is a very bad day,” he announced, but to her relief he struggled his way to his feet and turned toward her. She glanced at his face and then down at his shirt, relieved to find that he didn’t appear to have gotten any vomit on himself.

“That’s what you get when you eat someone else’s brownies,” she said, but she put her arm around his shoulders when his lips puffed into a pout. “Come on, I’m sorry, it’ll be over soon.”

“Do you love the blind guy, Liv?”

“He’s not—I don’t even know him yet. But if we don’t walk a little faster, the date will be over before I even get to it.”

“Sorry.”

She sighed and rubbed at his shoulder. “It’s okay.” They walked in silence until they reached the stairs, and then Barba hesitated and slid his gaze up the steps. “You can do it, we’re almost there and I’ll make sure you don’t—Oh good lord,” she said as he gingerly lowered himself to his knees on the bottom step. She watched in exasperation as he carefully climbed up one step, then another. She looked at her watch and closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath.

“I wish I was your date,” he said, and her eyes snapped open. He was crawling up the stairs like an oversized toddler, not looking back at her.

“Then you should’ve asked,” she snapped before she could stop herself.

He hesitated in his climb. “You never asked me, either,” he said, and she felt a flash of annoyance because she couldn’t argue with that logic.

She started up the stairs behind him, and they went up in silence for several steps.

“Sorry,” he finally said. He stopped and turned carefully, plopping onto his ass. He peered blearily at her for a moment. “This ladder is spinning.”

She stepped up and turned, sitting down beside him with a sigh. “You really cannot handle your drugs,” she said. He managed a small smile, but he looked pale and sweaty and slightly heartbroken. “Just take deep, slow breaths.”

“I’m okay,” he said quietly. “You can go so you’re not late. I promise I’ll go right to my mom’s—”

“I’m not leaving you here,” she said, sharper than she intended. She drew a breath and softened her tone. “Just take your time, we’ll go when you’re ready. To be honest, I wasn’t sure about this date anyway. He texted me earlier to make sure I knew I had to pay for my own dinner.”

“What a dick,” Barba muttered, surprising her into a laugh.

“It’s not like I have a problem paying for my own food,” she said. “I would never go into a date assuming the other person was going to pay. And communication is good, laying out expectations…” She trailed off because she knew she sounded like she was trying to justify something.

“I’m a feminist,” he said with a sniff, “but I’d pay for all your food if you’d let me.”

She looked at him. “He also suggested I not wear green because he said it’s his least favorite color.”

Barba glanced at her blouse. “I think that’s green but I’m also very stoned.”

She laughed. “Yeah. The date probably wasn’t going to go well.”

“It’s okay, he wouldn’t be able to see it, anyway.”

“Barba,” she said in exasperation, “he’s not—” She broke off when his face split into a grin, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, I think you’re starting to feel better. Do I have to drag your ass up these stairs or will you try to walk?”

“He’ll take one look at you and offer you the world,” Barba said quietly, his lips still curved into a soft smile. “He’d be an idiot not to.”

“I think I’ve decided not to go.”

He grimaced and looked away. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“You didn’t. I think…maybe you and I should talk. When you’re less…high.”

“When I’m lower?”

“Exactly. Now get up before your mom sends more cops after us.”

“FBI,” Barba laughed, using the handrail to pull himself slowly to his feet. Benson rose beside him and put a bracing hand against his back as he turned unsteadily. “Can’t believe my mom’s a narc.”

Benson laughed, too. “I can’t believe you went into her apartment and just decided to eat half a pan of brownies.” When he looked at her from the corner of his eye, she laughed again and said, “Okay, yes I can.”

“I’m still hungry.”

“Yeah, well. We’ll find you something to eat.” She paused as they climbed a few steps. “Or, when you can walk in a straight line without falling over or puking on a rat, we can go to get some food.”

He looked sideways at her again. “Can I pay for yours?” he asked.

“We’ll see,” she allowed as they finally reached the top of the stairs.


End file.
